They Were Soldiers
by TheLionheartedQueen
Summary: This year, the golden trio were gone and many Hogwarts students wondered if they'd taken the war away with them. He Who Must Not Be Named wouldn't bother Hogwarts now. This is a school filled with children, not warriors. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were the fighters. But war has a way of turning all children into warriors. Mostly original characters.
1. Valeria

Feedback is greatly appreciated. This is not beta'd so I apologize for any errors. I haven't written anything in awhile so I'm probably a bit rusty. Please be patient with me. Thank you.

Thoughts are in italic.

Valaria (Val-air-ee-uh)

* * *

The students of Hogwarts knew something was coming. They had felt the tension growing with each year as Harry Potter and his friends fought the danger which had barely touched the other students. This year, the golden trio were gone and many Hogwarts students wondered if they'd taken the war away with them. He Who Must Not Be Named wants Potter; he wouldn't bother Hogwarts now. This is a safe haven. This is a school filled with children, not warriors. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were the fighters. They'd proven that several times over.

Now, the child soldiers had left Hogwarts.

But war has a way of turning all children into warriors. Of stealing away into the safety of ones home. Of breaking and ripping until the child is gone and all that remains is a battered soldier.

Valeria Torres was no soldier. She was a gentle hufflepuff who excelled in herbology and transfiguration. No one could possibly expect the black haired foreigner to fight for a land that wasn't her own. Oh, but they were wrong. The memories of her homeland, Mexico, were muddled and blurry. England though, that was no haven for Valeria either. The Brits hadn't been very fond of her immigrant family. But this puff persevered and bit her tongue when the complaints threatened to spill out. She translated for her parents everywhere they went and felt eyes burning holes into her too dark skin.

At eleven years old, an owl appeared at her window. A man shortly arrived later on to explain the entire ridiculous situation. She translated and felt a sinking feeling in her gut. Valeria had been so careful to keep her oddness hidden. When her dolls began dancing, she'd thrown them away. If her crayons changed colors, she stopped drawing. But this small child hadn't been good enough, had she? She'd slipped up sometime and now the government was going to take her away forever.

Valeria had to be dragged to Kings Cross station. She cried on the train and thought about her little brother. Who would sing to him when he had nightmares? She sat alone the entire ride.

It wasn't until she had received her first letter from home that Valeria began to accept her new life. The puffs sitting next to her at breakfast asked about the letter written in Spanish. Right then and there, Valeria said, "My family is from Mexico. We moved to England when I was eight." A rock was stuck in her throat. She waited to feel the stares but none came. Looking up, she noticed that no one seemed to care where she came from. At least no one in her immediate vicinity. A conversation had begun about the possibility of charming a cupcake to make it taste like pudding. She was in the world of magic now. This was her world.

The muggle world, a land of prejudice and racism, was behind her.

But as the years went by, Valeria had seen muggle-borns petrified by a basilisk that wasn't supposed to exist. She'd heard the howls of a werewolf and hid under her covers trying not imagine the horrors befalling those outside the castle. Fourth year, she'd cheered for Cedric Diggory and then stared at his lifeless eyes and listened to his father wail. The year after, Valeria had seen Potter and his friends riding away from the castle on odd skeletal horses. The thought of following floated through her mind for a mere second before she went back to her dorm and climbed under the covers wondering if today was the day Harry Potter would die. She felt safe under her covers, in her dorm, surrounded by her fellow puffs. When The Boy Who Lived continued to live, she refused to feel guilty for not following him to the Ministry. _I'm not a fighter_ , she thought. _I wouldn't have been any help. I would have just gotten in the way._

The papers told a different story than the one she saw in his green eyes. They named him The Boy Who Lies. Valeria observed from the background as students cut Potter with their words and whispered behind his back. When other puffs asked her if she believed Potter, she skillfully changed the subject.

Valeria paid no mind to the tears that streamed down her face when she saw Potter crying over another dead body. Her feet moved of their own accord as she pushed her way through the crowd. Valeria wasn't used to pushing then, she was a wallflower and perfectly happy with observing from the background thank you very much. Yet here she was, shoving at her peers because she had always been short and needed visual confirmation that ... that the shattered body on the ground wasn't ... Whispers floated around her but she refused to listen. They spoke of a wizard falling from a tower. _No, not falling. Being pushed. No, he wasn't pushed he had fallen. How had he fallen? Ah, but it wasn't the fall that killed him. What was it then? Snape. Snape. Snape. Snape._

The students around her faded away as she caught sight of Headmaster Dumbledore's face.

At the end of her fourth year, when the Triwizard Tournament had ended along with Cedric's life, Valeria had ignored her fellow puffs who wanted to mourn together. She had pulled on her favorite pair of fuzzy socks and thought _I hope I never see another dead body again_. But she had seen the broken body of Albus Dumbledore only two years later. Again, she hoped to never see death again. But she was just a child and had yet to learn that death is always hungry and will feast on whoever it can regardless of what a young girl wants.

In her seventh year, Valeria would witness more death than most see in a lifetime.


	2. Antoinette

Here's chapter two. I can't promise that I'll update quickly because my family has moved across the country and my life is very hectic. I'm motivated to continue the story though! Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter. Even if you hated it, thanks for not sending me hateful reviews or anything like that. Reviews are always appreciated though as long as they aren't disrespectful. For anyone who like Valeria, don't worry she'll be coming back! This is just an introduction to another original character of mind.

 **Trigger Warnings: there are mentions of self harming by using curses on oneself in this chapter. The character in the chapter is also on muggle antidepressants. I didn't mean for this chapter to get so dark ... it just kinda happened. I can guarantee that this story will get darker too.**

 _Thoughts are in italic._

Antoinette (an-twuh-net)

* * *

Antoinette Vero let her fingers slide across books spines as she walked down an aisle in the library. Her eyes stayed on the sunlight pouring in through one of the tall windows. She could see dust dancing in the air. She breathed it all in. She exhaled deeply until there was nothing left.

A table of her fellow ravenclaws caught her eye and she stepped back behind a bookshelf. It wasn't like she was afraid of them. She just didn't want to be seen. Not with the memory of summer still in her mind. Antoinette made her way deeper into the Hogwarts library until she stood outside the Restricted Section. She disillusioned herself and entered the Well of Forbidden Knowledge, as she liked to call it.

Her hands automatically went out to touch the bookshelves as she walked. She closed her eyes and focused on the smell of the old tomes around her. Her fingers felt rough spines, smooth covers, leather, and sometimes a material that felt suspiciously like skin.

Antoinette did not come here to learn, not this time at least. Today she found herself in the Restricted Section because her mind was too loud and this was the quietest place in Hogwarts. With her eyes still closed, images flashed by in her mind. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to forget.

Today was the first day of her seventh year. The summer had dragged by. She ignored her imagination which continued to conjure up images of Headmaster Dumbledore lying in a pool of blood and a boy with brilliant green eyes sobbing. Antoinette hadn't seen any of this but the news reached her in no time at all. She had been disillusioned and wandering the castle at night, as she often did. Her feet carried her to the great hall and an insane scream of joy followed by crashing noises filled the air. Bellatrix Lestrange laughed as she flipped over the tables with her wand.

 _What do I do?_ The question flew through Antoinette's head as she gripped her wand. Lestrange wasn't alone, death eaters joined her in destroying the Great Hall. _They'll get bored with this soon_ , Antoinette thought to herself.

For the first time in weeks, her mind was quiet and Antoinette could see clearly what she was going to do. Her right hand brought up her wand and she aimed at Lestrange. The curse slipped between her pink lips and a flash of orange shot towards her target. At the last second, one of the death eaters had slipped and fell off what remained of the ravenclaw table. The orange light hit his left shoulder and he began to scream. The sound of his shoulder bone breaking could be heard from where Antoinette stood in the doorway.

Antoinette didn't hear the spell but suddenly she was very much visible. She knew what they saw as they glared at her. A petite girl wearing ravenclaw robes, pink socks, and no shoes. She could feel her brown curls move in the breeze that floated in from shattered windows. They did not see a challenge, they saw a plaything. Lestrange was laughing again.

Antoinette turned to run but she'd never been very athletic and her face quickly met the cold floor. There was a sharp pain in her left thigh. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed a man not dressed in death eater robes but still looked at her with a hunger. She'd seen his face before on wanted posters in Diagon Alley. This was Fenrir Greyback.

Her fear fueled her muscles as she pushed up from the ground.

"Protego!" She shouted the spell and felt the curses hit her shield. She was breathing hard and could hear screams coming from outside.

Before she realized where she was headed, she arrived at the library. A steady stream of blood flowed down her leg as she limped to a window. Hagrids hut was burning. Antoinette could still hear Lestrange laughing at her. She looked over her shoulder at the library entrance. Before she could cast a spell to close the heavy wood doors, she collapsed from blood loss.

Antoinette awoke the next day in the infirmary. The other beds around her were also occupied by students. Some looked like they would recover quickly and painlessly. Three students had heavy bandages and one was missing a leg. Antoinette closed her eyes. The news of Headmaster Dumbledores murder reached Antoinette quickly. She hadn't been close with the famous wizard. They'd never spoken. But a weariness settled in her bones and she spent her summer thinking about the war that was to come. No, that's not right. It's already here.

In July, the muggle family living next door to her were slaughtered like animals. Antoinette had heard the screams and ran to her window. Her muggle mother was calling the police and her father began casting protective spells over the house.

Antoinette spent the rest of her summer in the family basement. Casting curses and hexes at the brick wall made her feel better. The hatred seeped through her veins slowly. It moved like lava, burning everything it touched until there was no part of her that hadn't been set aflame. This anger frightened her but it also made her feel strong. Her thoughts went back to her time spent reading in the Restricted Section. At the time, studying the deadlier spells had only been for fun. She grew bored easily with the routine of her classes.

She could remember the wand movements, the words, and the feeling she needed to work the bone breaking spell. She had already successfully cast it on that death eater. But now she wanted to practice it. Day after day, she had aimed her wand at her own legs and felt the searing pain of the bone breaking spell. Using her fathers textbooks on magical healing she was able to practice mending her own bones. Thankfully, this magic came easily to her.

But now that summer was over and Antoinette was slowly walking through the Restricted Section. She knew that inflicting bodily harm on herself had been dangerous and unhealthy. But she didn't care. Before summer had ended, Antoinette could shatter a bone and heal it in a matter of minutes. Walking was always painful for a few days afterwards but Antoinette used the pain as motivation. She'd been exceptionally careful to hide her practicing from her parents. They already made her take muggle antidepressants. If they found out, she would be shipped off to St. Mungo's for a long time.

Antoinette stopped walking as her fingers felt a torn up and very old book spine. Sitting down, she placed the tome in her lap. It was surprisingly light for being such a thick volume.

She read the title: **Using Darkness to Create Light**.


End file.
